The Lost Soul
by FPinFC
Summary: An original action story featuring Sam Braddock. (To see where this story logically falls relative to the series and my other stories, please see my profile.) (If you're unfamiliar with the "bone cam" referred to in this story, please see the pharmacy scene in "Severed Ties.") APOLOGY: I briefly had Ch 4 mislabeled as Ch 3, which may have caused confusion for some readers. FIXED.
1. Chapter 1 - Staging

**Chapter 1**

**Staging**

Sam walked into the locker room, coat slung over his shoulder, practiced nonchalance on his face.

_I will NOT feel guilty. I refuse to feel guilty. _

_It's not like we're hurting anybody._

He told himself that every time he walked into this building lately. And it never worked.

There was Sarge, big grin on his face, trading lighthearted verbal jabs with Wordy. _I think he knows, and he's letting it slide...but if this goes wrong, he'll lose his job over it!_

Sam felt his smile fade at the thought, even as the others turned to greet him, so he replaced it with a new grin that he hoped didn't look forced.

It was easy to smile with these guys.

"Sam-tastic!" Spike held up a hand for a high-five, which Sam obligingly gave him. Wordy slapped him on the back. Sarge, Ed, and Lew smiled at him….

_But Sarge always has a question behind his eyes._

_If he doesn't know, he suspects._

Sam spent a minute or two in friendly sparring with his comrades, and still managed to have his street clothes stowed and his uniform half on by the time Jules arrived.

"Hey, everybody," she called out, though there was of course no line-of-sight between her and the men's dressing area. She'd come in seven minutes after he had, just as planned, and her loud greeting made sure everyone noticed how much time had elapsed.

The men all returned her greeting, and took it for granted that she headed to the separate locker room she had all to herself, as of course she did.

_Sarge is looking at me again._ Sam pretended not to notice, and he followed his usual strategy of introducing a safely neutral topic of conversation. This time it was hockey.

The morning dragged at first. Workouts went well, but afterwards the team began to get antsy.

Sarge ordered them to the firing range, and they all shot until they were sick of it.

And then, just as they returned from the range, the claxon sounded. "Team One, hot call, gear up!"

_Finally!_

Spike whooped. "It's about time!"

Kira fed them the details. "Armed subject, multiple hostages, multiple 911 calls, confirmed. The location is the Sow and Cow Meat Market." She rattled off the address. "Subject is described as a white male, approximately 20-25 years old, wearing camo. Evidently he has a duffle bag full of weaponry, possibly including explosives. 911 operator reports that he overheard a demand for all cellphones to be turned over, and the calls have stopped. Uni's have established a perimeter, but are staying back."

"Copy that," Sarge confirmed for all of them.

Sam's mind was spinning even as he strapped on his gear.

_A vet? _

_Do I know him? Did I serve with him?_

_Will Sarge let me handle negotiations if I did? _

They rushed to the garage, climbed into their trucks and sped away, lights and sirens blaring. Sam had the wheel of one truck, and Spike rode beside him.

"Okay, guys, check out your PDAs," Spike said into his mic. "These are the floor plans for the Sow and Cow. Could they have thought of a worse name, by the way?" And then, for the benefit of those driving, he began to tell them the salient details that they couldn't look at right now.

"Okay, if I were this guy, I'd be holed up in the freezer area in the back. No outside access except one strong metal door. No windows back there."

"But awfully cold, Spike," Sarge noted.

"Yeah, well, maybe he's wearing thermal underwear. But even if he's not in the freezer, just being near it would put him well back from any easy access points. And we have very solid construction here, from what I'm seeing. Stealthy entry could be a real challenge. Same with finding a good sniper perch."

Sarge's voice came over their headsets. "Kira, did the subject make any demands that we know of?"

"None mentioned. 911 has not attempted to re-establish contact with any hostages for safety reasons."

"Copy that, Kira, we should be there in 6 minutes."

"We'll stage in the alley just behind the location," Ed added.

"Copy that," everyone replied.

"Time to kill the noise, guys," Sarge ordered when they got within a few blocks of their target. Sam switched off his siren, but kept his lights flashing. He knew that barricaded subjects tended to go ballistic when they knew the cops had arrived, but with no windows in the back, in the broad daylight, the lights wouldn't cause a problem.

They pulled in, strategically parking to block off access to the alley and remain out of sight of the few side windows in the building. All officers disembarked from their vehicles quietly and converged around the center of command: the combined power of Sergeant Greg Parker and Officer Ed Lane.

All eyes surveyed the building as if they hadn't yet seen the floor plans on their PDAs. They always did that, since those floor plans often contained major errors. _So far, at least from the outside, this one seems to have been accurate._

"Hey guys, check this out." Spike was inspecting a breaker box on the outside wall of the meat market. Its lock had been broken, and the door hung askew.

Ed walked over to see it. "Did he kill the power, Spike?"

"I'm thinkin' this guy knows what he's doing, Boss. Look at this." He stepped back and pointed. "He only messed with one breaker...the biggest one. I'm willing to bet that one controls the big meat freezer. I'm betting he's holed up in there, just like I said, but he cut the power to it first, so he wouldn't freeze. And he didn't just throw the breaker, he smashed it, so we can't turn the cold back on." He shot a significant look at the others. "He's probably got the hostages in there, and he's standing in the freezer doorway to make sure nobody escapes."

Spike spoke with that odd combination of emotions only he ever displayed; the common desire to convey vital and accurate information, and his unique sense of satisfaction...even admiration...for the cleverness of a technical coup.

Spike stepped back a bit further to allow the others a better view. "He'd probably be able to completely close himself in there pretty quickly if he knew we were coming."

"You can bet he knows, Spike," Sarge replied. "He had to have seen people talking to 911 before he confiscated the phones. But that's a double-edged sword. If he locks himself in there, he's cut off from all supplies. We'll have the advantage."

"Yeah. Except that the hostages will be fish in a barrel," Ed muttered.

"Copy that," Sarge replied quietly. And then, into his mic, "Kira, we need this breaker repaired ASAP, but tell the repairman that he's NOT to turn the power back on without my say-so. We need the option of power, but we need it off for now. Don't want to freeze our hostages."

"Copy that, Sarge."

Spike caught the Sarge's eyes with a look of urgency. "You gotta understand, Sarge, that in order to fix that breaker, he's got to cut power to the whole box, and that means cutting all power in the building. Our guy will know...or at least suspect...what we're up to."

Sarge's eyebrows went up, and his expression grew more troubled. He patted Spike's shoulder in silent thanks for the intelligence. "All right, Kira, did you copy what Spike just said?"

"Yes sir."

"So...I need the repair guy to be on scene but on standby, then. And I need to know how long he would need to have the power off while fixing the breaker. This could get really touchy."

"Copy that."

"I wonder how long ago he threw the breaker," Ed mused. It will stay cold in there for quite a while, cold enough to be pretty uncomfortable."

Sam shook his head, growing more and more worried for the hostages as he pictured the scene. "If this guy's a vet, and it's a pretty good bet that he is, he's going to be ready for just about any approach we try."

Sarge looked him full in the eyes now. "Which makes it all the more likely that we're going to have to talk him down, Sam, and that's got your name written all over it."

Sam felt two simultaneous jolts; the joy of being so entrusted, and the heavy weight of the responsibility. "I thought so too, sir."

Sarge just nodded.

Lew stepped up with a question of his own. "Would it be possible to bypass the box...set up some kind of generator, so that the repairs can be made without killing power to the building?"

Spike seemed intrigued, but before he could answer, Kira's voice cut everything else off.

"Sarge, 911 has a man on the line claiming to be our subject."

Parker shot a look and a nod to Sam. "Okay, Kira, patch him through. I want him on all of our headsets, but I don't want him to hear anybody but Sam." He turned to the rest of the team. "I need reccy now, whatever you can give me."

"Copy that." The team...all except Sam and the Sarge...fanned out to survey the setting more thoroughly.

Kira said, "Okay, team, I'm going to use Channel 1 for all live team chatter. It will also carry the audio of Sam's negotiations to the rest of the team, but the subject will not hear anything on this channel. Channel 2 will be for Sam and the subject to talk to each other, but I will also allow Sam to hear the team on a lower volume."

"Copy that."

Sam felt a flutter in his chest as he heard his call go live.

_It's all on me right now._

Next: Chapter 2 - Numbness 


	2. Chapter 2 - Numbness

**Chapter 2**

**Numbness**

"This is Officer Sam Braddock with the Police Strategic Response Unit. Who am I talking to?" Sam asked in his most authoritative tone.

"Figure it out for yourself, cop."

"Okay, I'll tell you what I've been figuring. I figure you're a vet, am I right?"

"Yeah, how'd you guess?"

"The camo. That's what 911 heard about before you confiscated the phones. That and the duffle full of weapons and possibly explosives. Care to elaborate on that?"

"Right on all counts. Don't mess with me. I've got this place ready to blow so high they'll be picking up pieces of us in Maine. And I've set it up so I'll know if you come in the front door, so don't even think about sending a cop in here. Not unless you want him to get blown up with the rest of us."

Sam saw Sarge's eyebrows go up again. He gestured to Spike, who nodded and ran around front to investigate.

"Okay, listen, let's slow this down. Nobody needs to die today, soldier."

"People die every day, cop."

"True, but if anybody makes it happen when it doesn't have to happen, that's not a good thing. If you served, you know that. There are times when people have to kill, but those are the exception, not the rule. And this is not your battlefield."

"Like you would know."

"Yeah, I do know. I just got back from Afghanistan a little while ago. JTF 2."

"My condolences."

That answer made Sam's head rock back a bit with surprise. He mulled it over for a few moments.

"Your condolences for what? For coming back alive?"

"I see we understand each other."

"Well, I hear you, but…" he stopped himself, realizing he was about to make a negotiating blunder. So instead of, "...but I don't understand you," he decided on, "can you help me understand why you feel that way?" He flicked a glance at the Sarge, who nodded his approval.

"Well, you just gave yourself away as a liar," the subject sneered. "If you were really JTF 2, you would understand what it's like to come back here. You wouldn't just waltz into some police job and act like you don't know how bad we vets have it!" The subject's voice rose to a shout by the end of the sentence.

Sarge was too close to Sam to risk speaking aloud, since Sam's mic could transmit his words to the subject. So he got out a notepad and wrote in large letters, "PTSD."

Sam nodded.

"Hey, buddy, I didn't say it was a cakewalk, okay? I've had my adjustments to make, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy that I survived."

"Well then, I guess we don't understand each other."

"I'd like to understand. And I'm pretty sure you want people to understand, right? Isn't that why you took hostages today? To get attention? To make a statement?"

"Yeah."

"So, why don't you tell me about that?"

The subject just snorted.

Spike's voice came over, softly because of the settings on this channel. "Boss, I'm not seeing any physical transmitters. I'm going to check for infrared next."

"Copy," Sarge whispered. Then he started writing on his tablet again in quick strokes. "Hostages? Status? Numbers?"

Sam nodded again. "And while you're at it, my friend, will you tell me if your hostages are okay?" He glanced at Sarge and suddenly remembered what he always said. "My bosses will want to know," he added.

Sarge looked approving.

"Oh, I haven't hurt anybody. Yet."

"That's good to hear. I hear a rumor that you had at least three people in there…."

"Look, I'm not stupid enough to fall for that, okay? If I didn't want you to know how many hostages I had, I wouldn't correct your so-called information, okay? Don't talk down to me!"

"But you don't mind us knowing how many you have?"

"I have six. Four women and two men."

Sarge's eyebrows went up again. This guy was surprisingly forthcoming.

"Thank you, sir. It sure would be helpful if I had something to call you, though."

"Thomas. Call me Thomas."

"First name or last name?"

"Doesn't matter."

Sarge stepped away and spoke quietly into his headset, asking Kira for info about vets with known issues named 'Thomas,' first or last.

"Okay, Thomas, thank you for that," Sam replied. "Since you're pretty open about things, would you mind telling me why you chose this particular location?"

"You tell me, JTF 2."

"The freezer?"

"Yep."

"Nice of you to kill the power, so your hostages won't freeze."

"Don't think I did it to be nice to them. I don't want to freeze. I couldn't care less about them."

"Boss," Spike reported, "I've found two infrared trigger beams across the doorway, one about six inches above the other. And that's just what I can see from here. He may have more inside."

"Copy that," Sarge said. "Keep looking around, and figure out how to get us in there." Then he scribbled, "Does he know any of his hostages? Grudge?"

"So, Thomas you got anything personal against any of those guys in there with you?"

"Never seen 'em before in my life."

Ed, Wordy, and Jules came back and whispered to Sarge about their findings. _No good perches, or Ed would be in one. They don't look very encouraged._

Sam glanced around. _I guess Lew is with Spike._ Then he shook himself a bit and forced his focus back to Thomas.

"Okay, so you've planned it all out, you've chosen your location, you've got your ordnance, you've got your hostages...now what? You said you wanted to make a statement, so let me hear it."

"Fine. 'Canada, you can't do this to us!' That's my statement."

Sam waited, but after a few moments of silence he prodded, "Can't do _what_ to us, Thomas?"

"I told you you're not JTF 2," Thomas growled.

"Look, soldier, I know about the grievances we've got coming back. Lack of jobs, lack of housing…"

Sarge scribbled furiously, "HELP FOR PTSD"

"...lack of help with things like PTSD and other emotional issues we come home with...I know about all of it. I'm just wondering what in particular has _you_ so upset that you decided to take hostages over it."

"I'm just doing what they trained me to, JTF."

"You can call me Sam, if you like."

"Fine. Sam."

Sarge was scribbling again. "Doing what he's trained to do...hurting people, not feeling. Lost soul!" He underlined the last two words, forcefully.

Sam read and nodded slowly.

"Needs help to reintegrate as a civilian," Sarge added on a fresh sheet.

"So, Thomas, I'm thinking that you feel you haven't been helped enough to reintegrate as a civilian, am I right?"

"How'd you guess? Isn't this looking like normal civilian behavior to you?"

"Well, now that you mention it, no. But I'm wondering, now that you've started to vent your grievances with me, what do you need hostages for? Wouldn't it be better for everybody if you let them go?"

Sarge's expression suggested reservations about this approach, but he didn't say anything.

"What do I need them for? For my great exit, of course!"

Sarge's eyes grew wide even as Sam's did. _Oh no! He's planning to go out in a blaze of glory, taking a lot of innocents with him._

Spike and Lew returned.

Sam glanced around at his teammates, and all wore the same worried expressions. Several of them conversed animatedly, sometimes pointing at various parts of the building, clearly debating their options.

_They don't look like they've been able to agree on a good tactical approach yet._ Sam's worry grew exponentially.

"'Great exit?' Soldier, you don't want to do that…" Sam began, but a shout cut him off.

"Don't tell me what I want to do!" Thomas bawled.

Sarge paced a quick 360 as his frustration pushed his body to do something, but there was nothing it could do. "He's escalating, Sam!" he murmured.

Sam felt the full weight of those words. Sarge had not been stating the obvious, of course. Everybody and his uncle could see the guy was escalating. The boss was reminding Sam of his responsibilities.

_This is on me. Sarge has been helping a lot, but it's ultimately on my shoulders. And I want it to stay there._ If Sarge took him off of negotiations, it would strike a serious blow to his status with the team and to his self-confidence.

"Look, I'm not trying to tell you what you're feeling, okay, Thomas? I'm just telling you a little about what I'm hearing from you. I'm hearing a guy who wishes he'd gotten more help with reintegrating, right? And a guy who wants to reintegrate well is _not_ a guy who decides to go on a killing spree. Think about it, soldier! If reintegrating is your mission, a killing spree is like...like sabotaging your mission, and betraying your oath to your country. You don't strike me as that kind of guy, Thomas."

"Then you don't read me very well," Thomas snarled, his voice growing louder as he went along. "Don't you hear me? They stole my soul!"

Sarge nodded vigorously.

"I'm listening."

"They taught me not to feel, Sam...what did you say your last name was?"

The question shocked him, coming as such a sudden change of gears.

Sarge's eyes widened yet again, and he shook his head in a strong negative. "Get a last name from him first," he hissed. "But encourage the use of first names. He's trying to depersonalize you a bit."

"I'd love to tell you my last name, Thomas, but I'll need yours in exchange."

"You already have it."

Sarge nodded approvingly and showed something on his PDA to Ed, who also nodded.

_They've narrowed it down to who they think he is._

"Okay then, I like first names better, to be honest with you. You know that I'm Sam. How about you tell me your first name, and I'll tell you my last?"

"Forget it. I'm not giving you more to ID me with. You can read it on my dogtags after you kill me."

"I'm not going to kill you, Thomas."

"Oh yes you are. I'll make you do it. If not you, then somebody on your team."

"Get him off that subject, Sam," Sarge whispered. His eyes shot fire at Sam. Then he turned as someone called his name.

Sam momentarily closed his eyes to regain his focus on the subject. "Listen to me, Thomas...you said that they taught you not to feel. But I hear a lot of feeling in you right now. You've still got access to your emotions, Thomas."

"Only the negative ones! They're all that's left! I can't care about people! I can't love people! I can't feel anything at all, unless I'm thinking about killing. Then I can feel."

Sam looked for help from Sarge, but he was off in a heated discussion with Spike and the repair guy.

"The only time you can feel is when you're killing or thinking about killing?" Sam repeated, stalling for time as he tried to figure out what to say. Six lives weighed heavily on his very uncertain shoulders.

"That's right, JTF. And I am tired of it. I wanted to get better, but nobody could help me. So I'm going to die today, Sam, with your team's help, but before I do, I'm going to FEEL SOMETHING!"

A burst of automatic gunfire accompanied that angry roar, and Sam heard screams in the background.

Sam's jaw dropped as horror gripped him.

He couldn't speak.

Next: Chapter 3 - Fury


	3. Chapter 3 - Fury

**Chapter 3**

**Fury**

The whole team reacted with horrified resolve. "We've got to get in there, NOW!" "Well, you tell me HOW!" "We go in there hard tactical, he'll be blowing everybody up before we're halfway to the freezer!" "We need eyes in, Spike, NOW!"

"Thomas!" Sam heard himself yelling. "Thomas, talk to me, what's your status in there?"

Spike replied, "Okay, I can get the bone cam in. I have to cut the glass, and I have to find a way to fasten down its antenna to be on the safe side. Less likely to break the infrared. Once I get it into the building, I have to be able to release its antenna, and I've been thinking through how to do that. You see, if I..."

"No time, Spike, just do it."

"Copy that." Spike, Jules, and Lew ran around front yet again. Spike carried the bone cam.

Sam shook his head. _Good luck with that. He'll see it, and he'll blow it away on sight. _

_We can only hope he won't kill a hostage in retaliation._

_Assuming any of them are still alive..._

"Thomas, talk to me!"

Sam could hear panting over his headset, probably Thomas blowing off steam after what he'd done.

More quietly, he heard whimpers. _Impossible to tell if any are dead, but at least some are alive. _

_Heaven only knows what shape they're in._

"Thomas, report!" he barked again, trying for all the world to sound like a commanding officer.

"No harm," Thomas finally replied.

"Are you sure? Are _all_ the hostages okay?"

"No harm. But it sure felt good."

Sam glanced over at the team members he could still see, who had all fallen silent at Thomas' response.

"Thomas, I need to find out names. Can you tell me the names of your hostages? Pretty soon my bosses are going to start to get calls from worried relatives of people who've gone to the market."

Sarge nodded encouragingly.

"You can ID them after they're dead," Thomas replied, his voice oddly calm now.

"Thomas, no, don't you see? You've proven that you're not a murderer! Think about it, man! You had a chance to kill, and you didn't. And even though you enjoyed venting, you're glad you didn't kill them, aren't you?"

"Maybe I was for the first half-second, Sam, but I'm numb again. I hate numbness. You see, when I'm numb, all I want is to feel, but when I feel, it's so violent, so scary, that all I want is to be numb. There's no way to be happy. Not any more."

"Just ask the person closest to you on your right...look...is that a man or a woman?"

"A woman."

"Ask her her name."

"I know what you're trying to do, Sam."

"Oh yeah? What am I trying to do?"

"You're trying to get me to connect with them. Won't work."

"Really? I thought your mission was to reintegrate, soldier."

"No, that _was_ my mission. It's not anymore."

"Who aborted it? Seems like a mission that's too important to just blow off."

"SHUT UP!"

Sarge shook his head, tight-lipped.

_Yeah, this guy's all over the place._

"Okay, soldier, I'll shut up, if you'll talk to me," Sam finally ventured.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Sure there is, with six scared hostages in harm's way, I'd say there's a lot to talk about. And like I said, I really need to know who they are."

"Yeah, well that's your problem. I don't need to know."

"Are you afraid to know?" Sam challenged, keeping his tone mild despite the potential offensiveness of his words.

"What, you think I'm afraid I'll lose my nerve if I know their names?"

"Will you?"

"Shut up." This time the words came out more softly. Thomas sounded tired.

_That's hopeful._ Even the boss seemed guardedly encouraged.

Spike's voice came in over their headsets. "I've gotten the bone cam in, and I've freed the antenna. Now I'm maneuvering it very slowly, trying to keep it from attracting attention. It's within sight of what I believe to be the freezer doorway, but I can't see inside from here." A pause. "I'm trying to figure out the safest approach."

"Copy that, Spike," Sarge replied quietly.

"Spike, do you think I could get to where the cam is now without being spotted?" Ed asked.

"Hang on, I've got Lew working to disarm the infrareds." Another pause. "I'm swinging the camera upward to look for additional surveillance risks, like mirrors or cameras. The bone cam hasn't been spotted yet as far as I know, but it's a lot smaller than you are, Eddie. But you gotta remember...this camera isn't outfitted to spot infrared triggers. If he has more inside the building..."

"Copy."

Sam turned his attention back to Thomas, suddenly aware that he'd let the conversation lag. _Gotta keep him distracted, give Spike's camera a chance._

"What are my bosses going to tell worried spouses when they start calling in, Thomas?"

"That's their problem."

"No, Thomas, I don't think you really believe that. You may have only had that half-second of caring, but you know it didn't really go away after that. You know it's just buried somewhere deep inside of you. You don't really want to hurt those people, or force their loved ones to live in terror right now."

In the periphery of his attention, Sam heard that Ed had been cleared to risk an approach along the trail that the bone cam had already blazed.

Sam covered his mic and whispered to the Sergeant, "Are you sure you want that, Sarge? This guy's got explosives and who knows what else!"

"No choice," Sarge replied, tight lipped and worried. "But he's going to stay out of sight. Just giving himself a good vantage if we have to move fast. Now get back to Thomas."

Sam nodded. "Thomas, you didn't answer me. Do you see what I'm saying, about how you really do care? That's good news, right?"

Sarge nodded his approval.

Spike's voice came through in a harsh whisper. "I've moved the camera to a slightly better vantage point, and I can see what look like globs of C4 in several places on the door frame. Wires, too."

Sam's stomach sank.

"Copy that," Sarge replied to Ed, his face an eloquent blend of dread and determination.

Thomas' answer to Sam's question sounded like it came from a little further away from the phone than usual. "Hey, you...yeah, _you_...the cop wants to know your name. Get up and come over here!" His voice sounded angry, and Sam shot a worried look at the Sarge. Parker's brows were knit together.

"No, stop there, don't come any closer," Thomas snarled. "Now say your name, hostage, nice and loud so Sam the Cop can hear you!"

Sam heard a shaky female voice say, "Loretta Jones."

"Okay, Loretta Jones, now I want you to shout to the cop if you think that I care about you." His voice elevated to an maniacal yell. "Huh? Huh? Do you think I care about you?" He swore at her, calling her everything vile under the sun.

Sam heard a squeal that might have been fright or pain or both. "No, no, I don't think you do! Please don't hurt me!"

Sam heard another cry, and a thud. "I _don't_ care!" Thomas yelled. "Give me one good reason why I should care, Loretta Jones! I can kill someone named Loretta Jones just as easily as I can kill someone named Mahmoud. Don't you dare think I can't!" His scream came out with throat-tearing rage.

"Thomas, Thomas, pay attention to me, soldier, I'm the one you need to talk to!" Sam had been trying for a while to get the man's attention, but he'd been drowned out by Thomas' own screaming. And now that the subject's outburst had ended, Sam had to struggle to modulate his own voice.

_I need to get a handle on this!_

Sarge was staring at him and shaking his head. He looked really upset.

"Is Loretta all right, Thomas?"

Sarge's expression instantly rebuked him.

_Why? Oh...I need to get his attention off of her._ Sam inwardly cursed at himself.

"I told you I don't care!" Thomas bawled.

Sarge's face warned him in no uncertain terms.

"Okay, Thomas, you know what, let's just talk to each other, man-to-man, soldier-to-soldier, okay?"

"I got nothin' to say to you. You're no different than the rest of them. No help at all. Nothin' worth saying. Nothin' worth listening to. Waste of my time." He was no longer screaming, but his voice seethed.

"Tell me about the others. Do you mean counselors? Did you talk to professional counselors?"

"I wasted time with them, that's what I did."

"Was there anything they said that seemed to help, even a little?"

"Aren't you listening to me, man? They did me no good!" He started to get loud again.

_I'm totally failing here. Totally._ Sam felt his confidence draining away, and he could tell, even out of the corner of his eye, that the Sarge saw it happening.

Sarge's hand came down on his shoulder, and Sam closed his eyes. _He's going to relieve me, and I'll be disgraced._

_How many chances does a rookie get?_

Sarge made a motion with his hand, indicating that Sam should cover his mic. He did so, bracing himself against the words of dismissal he knew were coming.

"Take a few deep breaths, buddy. Calm down," Sarge said softly.

Sam nodded, breathing slowly and deeply, willing his pounding heart to slow down. He hadn't realized until now just how physical his stress had become.

After a few more deep breaths, Sarge gently patted his shoulder. "Maybe you should try apologizing to him. Tell him you had underestimated how bad things had been. Tell him you still want to understand and help." He patted Sam's shoulder again and walked away a few steps.

_He didn't relieve me!_ Sam could hardly take it in. But he swallowed and quickly jumped back in. "Thomas, okay, you know what? I owe you an apology. I didn't get it...you know...how bad it's been for you. But you're coming through loud and clear, buddy, okay? I'm hearing you. And I'd still like to understand. Still like to help."

"Help? How are you going to help? If the bigwig psychologists can't help, how will you?"

"How many of those psychologists were out in the field?" Sam asked.

"None of 'em, as far as I know."

"Well, I was."

"I'm still not convinced of that."

Sam began to recite the details of his tour of duty, filling in locations with intimate detail, using all the right military lingo. At last Thomas interrupted him.

"Okay, okay, you were there. You convinced me. But you came back with your head on straight, from the sound of it. So how can you possibly relate to me? You've still got nothing to say to my situation, Mr. Successful Cop."

"You're not fond of hope, are you?" Sam asked quietly. He didn't even know why he'd said it, but Thomas' reaction was instantaneous.

"Hope? HOPE? Hope is my worst enemy!" He was screaming again, pure rage. "Hope makes you soft, and then it shatters your dreams and grinds the shards into your flesh! I hate hope! I hate it!"

Another volley of automatic gunfire roared, followed by terrified whimpers in the background.

"Is anybody hurt, Thomas?" Sam asked, when he could trust himself to speak again."

"Not yet." The voice was subdued now. "Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"

Sarge shook his head, and Sam avoided making that mistake again.

"Have you always felt that way about hope?"

"What do you think?" The tones were bitter now. "I was a fresh-faced little kid with starry-eyed dreams of being a hero. And they chewed me up and spit me out with all sorts of medals, but with no soul. And every time some counselor would tell me I was doing better, I'd get all hopeful again, and then it would all fall apart again, until I learned better than to ever hope again. And you're not going to force me into that trap either, Mr. JTF 2!"

Thomas began shouting again, but it seemed that he was holding his phone farther away again. "Do you want me to blow this room up, huh? Do you want to die today? You're nothing but meat, just like the cows in this freezer, and when I press this button, nobody's going to be able to tell whose meat they're picking out of their rosebushes...yours or the pigs'! You think you're more than that, but you're NOT! You're just MEAT!" His screams made Sam picture his neck veins standing out.

He could hear sobs from various voices.

A man in the background hollered, "Officer, my name is David Reese! Tell my wife I love her!"

_He believes he's about to die._

_Maybe he's right. _

Next: Chapter 4 - Moment of Decision


	4. Chapter 4 - Moment of Decision

**Chapter 4**

**Moment of Decision**

"Thomas, Thomas, let's slow this down, soldier. Slow it down." Sam felt pleased to hear that his terror didn't show in his voice. _That's proof that I served, if ever there was proof._

He heard the Sarge talking, low and quiet, with Ed and others. He couldn't make out the words, though.

"Tell me something, Thomas...have you felt any half-seconds of caring since the last one you told me about?"

"Dream on." The soldier's voice was quiet again.

"Have you?"

"Why are you hassling me?"

Sam considered his options, and decided it was best not to voice what he'd observed...that Thomas always seemed peaceful, briefly, after blowing off steam. That maybe, just maybe, Thomas was attacking these people so that he could enjoy that half-second of caring that followed his assaults.

_But I don't dare tell him that, or he'll think I want him to escalate again, just so he can come back down._

_But if I can't say that, what can I say?_

"I'm just thinking about what you and I have in common, Thomas. There are some things, you know. I was a long-distance marksman. I had to learn to kill, too, you know? And I've had to kill as a cop, too. I know it's not easy. It's the hardest thing in the world to do...except the one thing that's harder, which would be sitting back and doing nothing and seeing your buddies die because of it."

"Oh, there was no way I was ever going to let that happen. I killed. I killed as much as I had to. I protected my unit."

"Good soldier."

"Yeah. Lousy civilian."

"When do you think it happened...you know...the incident that caused the PTSD for you?"

Sarge gave him an eloquent look that said, _I hope this doesn't backfire on you!_

Sam gestured that he wanted the sergeant's pad and pencil. He quickly wrote with it, "Does Ed have any better access than before?"

Sarge just shook his head and mouthed, "We got nothing."

"I don't want to talk about that incident," Thomas replied, but he seemed fairly calm.

"Okay, I understand. I have things from over there that I don't like to talk about either." He thought furiously. "Can you talk to me about how you're feeling right now, Thomas?" he finally asked.

Sarge seemed curious to hear the answer.

"I'm scared, Sam." The quiet words stunned both Sam and the boss.

"Oh, buddy, thanks for telling me that, I really appreciate it. Can you tell me…." Once again he bit back a huge blunder. If he'd asked "why," he could have been accused of not listening. Could have set the guy off again. "Could you tell me more about that?" _That was safer._

Sarge patted his shoulder and nodded encouragingly.

"I'm so scared of who I am, Sam! I'm a monster. I'd do anything to feel. And that makes me a monster, because nothing but killing makes me feel anything."

_Time to take the risk._ "I don't think that's quite true. I think you like the half-second of caring that you feel after you scare those poor hostages to death...am I right?" He kept his tone as caring and non-judgmental as he could.

"Maybe. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. Please...can't you just come kill me? I know you've got a cop in here."

Sam and Sarge exchanged worried looks. _Does he really know, or is he just assuming that we would by now?_

"I know you see the C4, and you've heard the gun...you know what a threat I am. Please just come and get it over with. Don't make me kill a hostage to get your attention...because I could do it, you know."

"You don't have to do that, okay, Thomas? You don't."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Was there...was there ever a time you got to show mercy when you were with your unit?" Sam asked.

"Wrong question." The voice grew hard.

"I'm sorry, man. Forget I asked it."

Sarge took his pad and pencil back. "Mercy backfired on him," he wrote.

Sam nodded.

Silence fell.

"Was that when you changed?" Sam ventured.

Sarge's eyes widened, and his face said he clearly wasn't sure that had been a good idea.

"I...I showed kindness to some kids in a village, and it was fine, you know? Made me feel good. When we came back through that same village, I saw the same kids, and they came up and asked me for more chocolates. I gave them some. But then I had to go take a leak, you know? I just stepped away to a good spot, you know how it goes…"

"Yeah, sure, I know."

"I turned to look back, just in time to see the kids...the _little kids_ pull out guns and start firing away at my friends. Then snipers from the houses joined in...it was a massive firefight in a moment. And I had no choice...no choice...but to…" He broke into sobs.

"He had to kill the kids," Sarge murmured, his face a mask of agony.

Sam felt sick for the guy, but still..._it's good that he's talking about it._

"If another unit hadn't arrived shortly, none of us would have survived. But I'm not sure I really did. I'm the walking dead. A zombie. Isn't that what they call people with no souls?" For all his painful words, Thomas didn't escalate to anger. Instead, he wept. A very good sign.

Sam let the soldier cry it out for a while.

Boss seemed pleased.

When the storm of tears finally seemed to be subsiding, Sarge gave Sam a little push of encouragement to get the subject talking again. "Don't let him bottom out," he whispered.

"Thanks so much for telling me about that day, Thomas. About the day that...that mercy became dangerous."

Sarge sucked in a breath, sharply.

_I guess he thinks those might not have been the wisest words…._ But Sam couldn't ignore his gut anymore.

Thomas opened up some more. "Every counselor brought me back to that point, over and over. Some tried to get me to imagine better outcomes, guided imagery, that sort of thing. But it never worked. How can imagination be stronger than a reality so powerful it warps your whole soul?"

"Yeah, I hear you."

"Others tried to get me to forgive myself...but they had it all wrong. I didn't blame myself. I never did. I just got changed by it. I wanted to go back to being the person I was before that day, and I never could."

"And mercy got kicked out of your life, didn't it?"

"I didn't want it to, but...it's like I told you. I can't feel anything unless I'm being violent or imagining violence or watching violence or playing violent video games. It's all that's left of me."

"I'm not surprised that imagination could never overcome a memory like that, Thomas."

"So you agree...there's no hope. Just a push of this button, though, and I'll be dead."

"No, you don't want to do that to six innocent people."

"How do I know they're innocent? Huh? How do I know that? I thought those kids were innocent! Maybe nobody is anymore, for all I know. I know _I'm_ not."

"No, I don't think it's hopeless, Thomas," Sam said hurriedly, hoping to pull the soldier's mind away from the detonator switch. "I just said that I didn't think _imagination_ could do it. You see...I believe there's a moment of decision that's so powerful, so deep, so real, that nothing can simulate it. None of your therapies could ever bring you to the point where a fatal decision needed to be made. How could they, right? But that's what you have here, Thomas. A point where it's real, it's life and death, and you can take a risk on being merciful again. That's what you really want, isn't it? To hold someone's life in your hands, and be able to let them walk away with a smile, to reach down into that deep place of decision...not in your imagination, but in real life...and choose mercy, and not have it backfire."

Sarge nodded with an expression that, if Sam read it right, might have been impressed.

"Think about it, Thomas...I mean...what could go wrong? You came here today intending to die. I'm telling you how you can take a chance on mercy again...a chance that could help you find your soul again, and a reason to live again. What's the worst that could happen? Nothing could happen that would be worse than what you already planned for yourself. But you can make things infinitely better for these six people, and for the people who love them. And I really believe you can make things better for yourself, too."

"Oh man, stop trying to make me hope!" The words were half-pleading, half-angry.

"The real point of life-and-death decision, Thomas, and the decision you always wished you could have made...the decision for mercy. Why not go for it, my friend? Why not? I'll ask you again, what's the worst that could happen?"

Thomas was sobbing again.

"I believe you've come to the one place, the _one place_ where you come in contact with that deep, deep part of you, your _soul._ You can find it again, right here, today. You can heal it. With mercy."

"Or I could end it all, right now!"

"I don't think you really want that, now that you know there's…" he bit back the word 'hope.' "...now that you know there's a way to fix the broken places."

Silence fell for a while, and Sam could see the boss becoming uncomfortable with it.

"I'll tell you what, Thomas. You already know the name of a couple of the hostages. You know Loretta, and you know David. Just imagine this for me. Imagine calling Loretta up, by name, and telling her, 'I'm sorry for what I've put you through. You're free to go.' And then giving her a smile, and being happy to see her walk out of there, alive and well, to rejoin her family. How would that feel?"

Silence.

"Why not give it a try, with just one hostage? Just one, to see how it feels?"

Silence.

"What could go wrong?"

Silence.

"Think about how much it could help you."

Silence.

Sam looked at the sarge, who only shrugged.

"Just one, Thomas. You can do it."

A deep sigh. "Loretta." The tone was calm.

Sam and the boss shared wide-eyed, hopeful glances. But the boss also looked a bit scared.

_So am I, Sarge. So am I._

_If he decides he needs to prove he's a hopeless cause, to force our hands, to make us kill him...she'll take a bullet right now._

_Or the whole place will blow, taking too many of us with it._

"Loretta, I'm sorry for what I put you through. You're free to go." The words were spoken woodenly, clearly just a recitation of Sam's example.

"Hey, why her?" somebody shouted.

Sam and the sarge jumped out of their skins. _You idiot! Do you want to ruin it for everyone?_

"You!" Thomas shouted. "What's your name?"

"Dougan." The voice sounded much more frightened now, though Sam only partly heard him over the sound of Ed's whispered, "I have Loretta. Jules, come escort her out so I can stay at my post."

"Well, Dougan, you're last," Thomas replied, without sounding terribly upset, and without any indication that he'd heard Ed.

"David, front and center." Thomas sounded a little less wooden now.

Sarge was now jog-trotting along the side of the building to meet Loretta, and he gestured one of the uniformed officers over to him as well.

"David, I'm sorry for what I put you through. You're free to go."

Sam listened like a man hearing magic itself. _Can this really be happening?_

"Thank you so much, Thomas," he murmured. "Thank you so much!"

"Wait, David!" Thomas called out.

Sam's stomach sank.

"I forgot one thing my therapist-cop told me to do. He said I should smile at you and feel glad you're going free." Silence followed.

Sam tried to comprehend what he was hearing. It seemed way, way too good to be true. But then Ed whispered, "I've got David." And then Jules said, "I'm escorting David out."

_Unbelievable!_ At the moment, Sam felt like the king of the world.

"All right, you, what's your name?" Thomas asked.

"Mary," the hostage replied.

"Mary, come here."

A slight shuffling sound.

"Mary, I'm sorry for what I've put you through. You're free to go...but wait...let me smile and...and try to feel glad."

"Thank you, Thomas, this is wonderful," Sam said again.

Thomas went through the same routine with a hostage named Janice and one named Svetlana. Each time, he sounded less wooden, more hopeful, more human.

"Dougan, front and center." His voice suddenly sounded cold and hard again.

_Oh no…._

Next: Chapter 5 - Disaster


	5. Chapter 5 - Disaster

**Chapter 5**

**Disaster**

Sam's spine stiffened, and he saw the Sarge's posture change, even across the intervening distance.

"You selfish dog," Thomas snarled at Dougan.

"Wait, wait, Thomas, you were doing so well!" Sam cajoled. "Keep going buddy, keep showing mercy! Didn't it feel good? Aren't you glad you did it? Come on, buddy!"

"Sam, I want to see you. Face to face."

"All right, I'm coming." He began trotting toward the front of the building.

"Negative, Sam, I can't let you do that," Sergeant Parker broke in emphatically. "He's too unstable. This emotional whiplash he's experiencing might throw him further off the wrong end than he was to begin with!"

Sam temporarily switched over to channel one, so that he could both hear and speak to the team without being overheard by Thomas. "I think I can help him, Sarge! We have a connection!"

"And he's got C4."

"You let Ed and Jules go in."

"Out of his line of sight. We're not even sure if he knows they're there."

By this time Sam had reached the front left corner of the building, where Sarge already stood. "Please, Sarge, didn't you see what was happening? It was fantastic!"

"Yes, and then he got ugly again. I don't like it, Sam. I'm afraid he's not impressed with the results he got, and this Dougan is going to take the brunt of it. And you might, too."

"Sam, he's wondering why he can't hear you," Ed whispered.

Sam switched channels. "I'm sorry, Thomas, I just had to talk things over with my boss. He's a little worried because your mood seems a little less positive towards Mr. Dougan. He's concerned that it might not be safe for me to go in there."

"Ah, so that's how it is. You don't trust me. After all the nice stuff you said, and after I did all of your therapy, you still don't trust me."

"Hey, we just got a little concerned because you got mad at Dougan. Let him go, and I'm sure we'll be fine."

"You're sure of that, are you?"

"Yes, I am. Come on, I was listening to you while you were letting the others go. I could tell you were starting to loosen up with it, starting to feel good about it. Weren't you?"

"Yeah, yeah. I really was. But when it came time to let Dougan go, and I felt angry with him, I knew I hadn't really changed. I wanted to kill him."

"No, buddy, you _have _changed. This is just a deeper point of decision, that's all. Make the right decision here, and it will go deeper for your good than all of the others put together."

"You think so?"

"I'm sure of it."

"All right. Dougan. I'm sorry for what I put you through. You're free to go." He sounded wooden again, even angry.

Ed received Dougan so quickly that Sam was sure the former hostage must have run as fast as he could.

"Thanks for the shot of hope, Sam. It did feel good. But I don't trust it. It won't last. Have a good life."

"NO, WAIT!"

A single gunshot rang out.

Sarge's hand clamped down on Sam's shoulder and held him fast.

_No point in even asking to go in._ Sam felt so shocky that he doubted he would have done so anyway.

"Boss, I'm going in!" Ed called out, no longer whispering.

"Negative, it could be a trap, he could detonate his bomb. Send the bone cam instead."

"Copy that."

"And vacate the building, both of you. Camera only. Everybody move to a safe distance."

"Copy."

Sam stumbled along with the others, blindly.

Sarge's hand never left his shoulder.

Spike kept telling them to go further until he felt it was safe. Then he turned his focus back to his camera, remotely steering it without appearing to worry about stealth.

_I know what he'll find._

_It's not a trap._

_He's dead._

_I failed._

"I see him, boss," Spike said softly. His gentle tones said it all. Sam looked up at him and saw compassion in his eyes. He's spoken to the sarge, but he was looking straight at Sam.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Spike added. Then he checked his watch and reported the official time that the subject's suicide had been confirmed.

Sam sank down to squat on his haunches. He felt inexplicably dizzy.

His team gathered around him. He heard encouraging words, but they seemed to bounce off of him.

Sarge squatted beside him, keeping his supportive hand in place.

"We had a connection," he murmured, his voice sounding oddly distant in his own ears.

Without letting go of Sam, Sarge spoke to Spike. "Go in and render the scene harmless for the uni's, Spike."

"Copy that. Lew, you're with me."

Sam tuned out the subdued action around him, though he comforted himself with the promise that he could have risen to action if the boss had given him any orders.

"Ok, Boss," Spike's voice came over their headsets after what must have been a longer time that Sam felt pass. "I've dealt with the C4, and Lew has swept the area. No other threats to the uni's."

"Thanks, Spike. Meet us back here." Sarge turned his attention now to Sam. "Come on, buddy. Uni's are taking care of the scene from here on out. Let's get you back to the station and debrief."

_Debriefing._ Sam's mouth went dry. _I'm going to get torn to shreds for this one._

_And I'll deserve it._

Sarge had told Sam to ride with him, so he sat now as he had stood throughout the whole ordeal: beside the man who negotiated better than anyone on the planet.

_The guy who trusted me, when he could have done it better himself._

_And I let him down._

As was the case after most hard calls, chatter was at a minimum.

Sarge kept shooting glances at Sam, and he looked concerned. At one point he even reached over and put his hand back on Sam's shoulder. "Hey, Sam, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I'm going to say it anyway. Don't sweat this. You're not going to your execution, okay?"

Sam worked up a small smile of appreciation for Sarge's kindness, but then sank back into his own personal darkness.

The hand patted his shoulder and then returned to the wheel.

###

Perhaps out of kindness toward him, the rest of the team spent the first part of their debriefing discussing their tactical choices, which pretty much left Sam out. He only half-listened, mostly just tuning in when the discussion got heated. Which it did fairly often.

Nobody liked situations in which they'd remained basically helpless throughout.

Ed brought that part of the discussion to a close in his usual, intensely concise way. "Look, the C4 was the game changer. There's nothing anybody can say that can change what those wired-up white globs meant. Our hands were truly tied. We hate it, but we have to accept it. And that's why we aren't just SWAT, right? We're SRU because we're not limited to tactical options."

Sam's stomach sank even further when he realized that his contribution to the fiasco was now taking center stage.

"We have the best negotiating skills in the department, by far," Ed continued, "and those skills got all six hostages out alive."

Sam felt a wave of relief. _In all my grief over Thomas, I forgot that I saved six people today._

He sat up straighter and looked Sarge in the eyes for the first time since that one, fateful shot.

Sarge offered him a gentle smile, and he accepted it with a nod.

"All right," Sarge began, "Nobody's happy with the way this ended for Sergeant Dwayne Thomas."

_Was that his name? I missed that part of the discussion, somehow._ _I'm sorry, Dwayne._ Somehow, it felt good to call him by his first name at last. _I'm humanizing him a little more._

Sarge called Sam's attention back by putting a hand on his arm. "Now, Sam, I want you to understand something very important. Yes, you did make some mistakes, but you corrected them quickly, and...this is the most important part...those mistakes did not lead to Thomas' ultimate decision. They did _not._ The direction that you took him in...that 'moment of decision' thing you introduced that got him to do the most amazing thing I've ever heard in my life...a subject apologizing to his hostages, one-by-one, by name, and sending them on their way with a smile...Sam, that was utterly amazing!"

Everybody nodded, smiling.

Sam's heart swelled. A lump formed in his throat which made him glad he wasn't expected to speak right now.

"I never would have thought of that, Sam. I never could have led him where you led him. And if there's anything I want you to carry away from this experience, it's the understanding that you gave him the very best chance he could have had. A better chance than anyone else, including me, could have given him."

Sarge leaned forward until he caught Sam's gaze, and he held eye contact with him as he spoke slow, clear, healing words.

"It's not your fault he chose not to accept the incredible gift you gave him today, Sam. It is not your fault." He patted Sam's arm, and then straightened back in his seat.

"We're going to go ahead and discuss Sam's mistakes...and his excellent choices...so that we can all learn from them. But remember, I make mistakes in my negotiating, too. Everyone does, now and again, even the best negotiators. And as of today, I count Sam among the best our city has to offer."

"Hear, hear!" Spike chimed in. Everyone else nodded and smiled.

Sam heard his own voice at last, though he hadn't intended to speak, and hardly knew what he was saying.

"I really appreciate it, guys. It means the world to me. But Boss...I've got to tell you...it's going to be a while before I feel ready to negotiate again. This has really taken it out of me."

Sarge nodded with an expression of complete understanding. "I hope I have the luxury of giving you time to recover from this before I put you on the spot again. But the day's going to come, sooner or later, when I'm going to look at you and say, 'Sam, I'm going to let you do this.' And when I say that, it won't mean that I'm ready to put you on trial. It will mean I know you're ready."

Sam swallowed another lump in his throat and then managed a smile.

And then he looked at Jules, almost shocked to realize he hadn't looked at her until now.

Her sweet smile fed something in his soul, and he realized why he hadn't looked at her before.

_As much as the guys' opinions of me matter, hers matters more._

_I was so afraid she'd be disappointed in me!_

He smiled back at her, and felt a huge knot untie in his midsection. Then he sat up straighter, ready to learn from his mistakes...and to celebrate his successes, with the people who meant more to him than anyone in the world.


End file.
